


The Ballad of War

by Aurora1994



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: "Racism", (How confused are these tags? xD), AU, Additional Character to be Added maybe, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Medieval, Armies and Swords, Blood and Violence, F/F, Loss, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape Attempt, Supernatural Elements, War, really slow burn, tyranny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24231166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora1994/pseuds/Aurora1994
Summary: The story follows the story of Waverly: a young girl who embarks on a journey full of difficulties and enemies. In the middle of it all, Waverly's path will cross that of Nicole: a mysterious woman, a natural enemy.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 30
Kudos: 17





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story a few years ago. At that time I didn't know the Wynonna Earp series yet, but when I found this story I thought the two protagonists could take their shape.  
> As always, forgive my English: work in progress!  
> The story is incomplete, so you might notice a change of style during the course of the story, I think after 9 chapters. I was writing a little differently a few years ago. And above all, it was designed for an Italian audience! :)  
> Enjoy!

**Intro:**

It was just before dawn, everything was immersed in an unreal silence; perhaps it was that awakened Waverly. You could hear neither the singing of the birds nor the last chirping of the cicadas.  
She got up, and went to wash her face in the vat, taking care to leave enough for the others.  
"The cows will be happy, they will be milked earlier today," she thought, as she walked to the stables. At least she would have done all the chores earlier, so perhaps she would have some time left to go for a walk along the river. Heartened by these thoughts, she began to jump with the bucket hanging from her arm.  
When she opened the doors wide, the beasts did not greet her with their usual mooing, they were restless.  
Waverly decided not to give it any weight, turned on the lamp and approached the older one who, because of the abundant milk, often had pain in the udders. But this one, usually well disposed to be relieved, started kicking and moving away from her.  
"What's the matter with you all today?"  
She, too, began to feel uncomfortable, and a moment later the ground began to vibrate.  
At first you could hear a loud crash of hooves, then came the screams, loud and excited: battle screams.  
She dropped the bucket and rushed out.   
On the horizon, before the rising sun, a herd of men on horseback came down the hill at great speed, sending blinding flashes from their weapons and scarlet armor.  
The other inhabitants also came out of their homes, and panic broke out.  
"It's the Vermilion Army, run, run!" Someone cried out.  
In the confusion, Waverly could distinguish her father's voice from the doorway. Attached to his leg, the little boy of the house cried in terror. She tried to reach them, but something struck her with violence on the head and knocked her to the ground, she was in time to see the invaders brandishing their weapons against her family, she wanted to scream, but the darkness took her.

When she recovered, she coughed for a long time: there was an acrid, metallic smell in the air, she turned and vomited. Her eyesight was blurred and all she could perceive were warm yellow and orange tints, she felt very warm, she thought she was in front of a beautiful sunset and, in the confusion of her mind, this made her smile. A moment before she fainted again, she noticed that everything was burning.

The feeling of warmth that she felt now was much softer, she slowly opened her eyes, but she saw foggy, she noticed that it was dawning.   
She looked up the hill, that's when her memory struck her violently.  
"Daddy, Jeremi..." she babbled, trying to get up.   
The pain in her head spread to her shoulder, running down her spine. She moaned, touching the back of her head, there was a lot of blood.  
She could hardly turn around. Where her little house stood the day before, now there was only a pile of blackened rubble.   
She looked around, trying to stay in control.   
There was nothing left of the village but black heaps, smoking clods and corpses... lots of bodies, mostly charred carcasses. She repressed a gagging. Her gaze wandered through the desolation of death, hoping not to see her family in that slaughterhouse.  
After several attempts, she managed to get on her shaky legs, looked for the well: her throat burned. But when she was near it, she noticed that there were bodies soaked in blood. In the middle of the horror, she distinguished her father's freshly mended shoes.  
She began to walk with an infirm and uncertain step. Her mind was destroyed.   
She wandered until the river interrupted her wandering and took her with it.

**1**

There was someone bent over her, a round, dirty face.She couldn't focus, and resigned herself to keeping her eyes closed.  
"Is she alive?"  
"Seems so, run and get Mummy!"  
She could not recognize the voices, and could hardly grasp the meaning of what they were saying, she was in a feverish state; she could not put her thoughts in order nor perceive her body well.  
She didn't know how long it had been, but suddenly she heard another voice: she was a woman, talking about home, about care.  
She felt herself being lifted by strong arms, and she also felt the more delicate touches of hands grasping her ankles.  
She remained in a state of semi unconsciousness, but she understood that they were carrying her, then there was a soft and warm contact, she must have been in a bed, perhaps hers.  
From that moment on there was a continuous swing between consciousness and unconsciousness, she had strange dreams and thoughts, without logic: she saw the village, then some trees that turned into big spears and they began to pierce people.

"How do you feel, little one?"   
That woman's voice again. She realized her eyes were open, and slowly came the sight. She looked at the big face of the woman standing over her. She didn't know her, but it reassured her.  
"Water." She could only articulate, feeling her mouth kneaded and her throat dry.  
The woman smiled, walked away, and shortly afterwards came back with a bowl, helped her up and made her drink. She drank with fury and the crystalline liquid gave her a new life.  
"Now get some rest, then you'll tell me what happened to you, little one."  
Waverly closed her eyes and finally slept without dreaming anything.

"So you're from Nalloh," the woman was saying as she changed the bandage on her head.  
She was able to tell something, but she didn't know how much she could explain herself, she felt weak and sore.  
"You were really lucky, little girl, your village is many miles from here, the river saved you."  
Lucky? She didn't feel lucky at all, but she tried to appreciate her benefactress's concern.  
The woman placed some black bread on her belly and, before leaving, caressed her shoulder.  
Two children broke into the room.  
"What's your name?" asked the older one.  
"Waverly. It was you who found me, wasn't it?" She asked, looking at them, curious.  
"Yes, we were fishing when we saw you coming into the river. I'm Set anyway, and this is my brother Jut. How old are you?" He asked, checking her out.  
"Seventeen..." she said, thinking about the beautiful day she'd just had a couple weeks before, when her daddy gave her that new dress. She looked at herself and realized she wasn't wearing it, and instead there was a ragged shirt and pants.  
She felt the tears burn in her eyes: even that hadn't remained as a memory, probably it must have been burnt and unusable. She wanted to ask, but she was afraid to appear ungrateful.  
The children, noticing she was crying, apologized and walked away.  
"You don't look so old," said the woman, perhaps in an attempt to console her, "you are so tiny and small."  
But Waverly wasn't listening, she was lost in thoughts and memories too intimate and painful to share.

She stayed with them for about a week, and when she felt better she decided she had to leave: she was one too many mouths to feed. He understood this also when, kindly but without too much conviction, the woman, whose name was Tay, told her to stay with them.  
They gave her a burlap sack with some bread and even a piece of cheese.  
All four of them were on the doorstep when, at the moment of the greeting, Waverly asked for something that haunted her from the attack.  
"Who are the Vermilion Army men?"  
Tay's face contracted into a grimace of anger and pain. "Those are not men, they are beasts, beasts spat out of hell like their lord. The Vermilion are a family of murderous demons, with their red hair they can only call blood." She said in anger.  
Then she tried to calm herself and explained, "The Vermilion have ruled the Lands of Vulcan for centuries. At first they were peaceful, but thirty years ago a despot came to power, who thinks only of reaping victims for pleasure ..." she pondered for a moment, then her face tensed again and her eyes were filled with horror and fear.  
"Your village..." she stammered, "was attacked by ordinary bandits, wasn't it? It's customary these days, though never with such violence." It was clear that she didn't believe what she said either, "The Vulcan Lands are many leagues from here, of them here came the only voice." she continued, trying to convince herself.  
"They were men in red armor, they razed everything and exterminated every life they encountered in their path." Waverly said, with a lump in the throat.  
The woman was now shaking visibly.  
"Grab the supplies, kids, we're leaving." Her voice tried to stay still and quiet, but it betrayed a lot of emotion.  
The children looked terrified at the mother, then at the girl, as if they were on the verge of bursting into tears, although they did not fully understand the situation, they felt the feverish tension in the air.  
Before closing the door behind them, Tay gave her a battered dagger and a light hug.   
"Whatever you decide to do, don't ever approach the men in the armor, and if you see someone with red hair, run as far as you can; if you don't run, try to stick it in their heart," she pointed to the dagger, "you can't go wrong: only the Vermilion have red hair, only them in the world... they're beasts, murderers." She was doing everything she could to impress it in her mind, perhaps to feel less guilty about leaving her alone in the world.

After leaving the little house, the young girl began to walk. She didn't know where to go or what to do. The dagger in her hand more than once seemed like a good idea, but despite everything she was afraid to die, she felt selfish because of her attachment to life, especially because her people and her family had not had the opportunity to choose.

The more she walked the more a thought materialized in her mind: Revenge.  
She had to repay those lives, since her heart was still beating, she had a duty to avenge those souls.  
She looked at herself, and felt weak and insignificant, in those conditions it was as much if she could kill a mosquito, not to mention an army. She called herself a coward. She had only two choices: to die or to try: to learn to fight.  
She chose a hazel bush and cut off a piece of it.   
In the evening she stopped and lit a fire, put a stick next to it to harden it, and ate some bread.  
As soon as she decreed that it was hard enough, she put out the fire so as not to attract anyone's attention, and climbed up a tree.  
Having an older brother who had taught her so many things was saving her life.  
Before she fell asleep she thought back and her brother Jack and her mom, taken away by the black fever, then her little brother and her dad, killed by those demons.

It had been three days since she was traveling alone. She found a passage in a rock face near a stream of clear water, it was a well sheltered and hidden place, ideal for those who wanted to stay in the shadows.  
She slowly perfected her fishing, managing to earn at least one meal a day, practiced with the dagger, even if only by instinct and trial, and hit many logs with her stick, trying to hit hard and in the exact spot where she was aiming... she had to give it more power.   
Despite the hands destroyed by calluses and fresh blisters she did not give up, trying to devote as many hours as possible to training.  
She didn't know if she would be able to knock out an enemy, "but they'll take a beating on the head for sure", she said, to give herself strength and force not to give up.  
Day after day, her body changed: her arms and legs no longer hurt, her body became more nervous, and muscles she didn't know she had began to push against her skin. On the tenth day, she discovered that women also have abs.  
She decided that she would soon look for a village, she needed real weapons and hoped to meet someone who would rebel against the Vermilion and decide to fight with her.


	2. A Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how regular the updates will be: I have to translate all the text from Italian to English and make sense of it in the other language. It sounds silly, but you have no idea how different some verbal expressions or idioms are between one language and another. For example in English, you say: "keep your shit together", this in Italian doesn't make any sense xD I'm sorry, but I like to make this kind of speech, I find it funny :)

**2**

She was unhappy to leave her refuge, but it was time to go.   
She had saved a couple of fish for the trip, even if she would have followed the river, it was still better to be prepared.  
In dreams, the face of those she had known and loved called her, asked her why she was alive, asked her for revenge.   
She was rethinking those dreams, she was immersed in her thoughts when, without realizing it, she arrived at the gates of a small citadel.  
She had never seen so many stone houses, so tall and massive, and there were boutiques, taverns and guards everywhere. She felt as if she had passed through the gates of another world.  
She looked at the high walls that surrounded the city and thought that perhaps, in case of an attack, they would be able to stop the enemy.

She found a armorer with good merchandise, but nothing is free, not in those days, not for a tramp. If she paid she could have anything she wanted, until then she had to stay away.  
She wondered if she had to warn the inhabitants about the enemy army, but then she considered causing panic, or worse, being taken for a liar and expelled, was something to be avoided.  
She wandered from tavern to tavern, tried with the merchants, but no one needed someone to clean or a stray.  
She had to find a way to scrape up some gera* or she could never pay for a good sword.  
Exhausted by failure, she entered a herbalist shop without hope. The smell invaded her nostrils: it was sweetish and gave a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.   
It was all in half-light, there was barely a few candles to brighten the room.  
The inside was bigger than you could guess from the outside. Full of shelves overflowing with jars, phials and herbs, bundles of different plants hung from the ceiling, but apart from that, she saw no one.  
"Excuse me, is anyone there?" She got no answer, tried again, "Excuse me?"  
A voice came from behind her, she hadn't heard him coming and jumped out of fright. Turning around, she saw a harmless old man looking at her quietly.  
"What can I do for you, Kiddo?" He asked calmly, as he walked by her to reach an old mahogany-coloured bar.  
"Um, I was wondering if you needed a helper, I can do a lot of things..." she said, as she approached him.   
She didn't know why, but she felt something threatening coming from the man, though he looked so meek and was a little taller than her. The feeling of danger increased when they looked into each other's eyes: they were of such an intense heavenly that they shone in the semi-darkness.  
"You're the first person to notice." The man smiled.  
Waverly didn't understand, and took a defensive pose as she touched the handle of the dagger with her fingers.  
She looked at him, and he smiled and stood still.  
"You mustn't be afraid of me, if your intentions are good," he smiled again, then added, "yes, I could use a helper."  
The girl tried to relax so as not to look aggressive.  
"Good," the man said.  
"All right, uh, you'll take me for a while then?I just need to earn enough gera to buy a sword." She said more than she wanted to, but those eyes enchanted her without looking more threatening, just charming.  
"What's a girl to do with a weapon?" he kept smiling, "you don't have to answer that, I'm just a curious man."  
But she replied, time and space took on other rules when those two turquoises met her gaze.  
She was careful not to mention the real names of the assailants, calling them just looters.  
The man listened attentively to the whole story. She felt better word for word, she was almost incapable of holding back.  
When it ended, the man's smile became almost paternal, if he wanted to console her, he had succeeded.  
"You know, Kiddo," he finally said, "I think you're special, and if you want I can do something else for you, I can teach you how to survive."  
The speech was very interesting, and she was breathing slowly for fear that the man would retrace his steps, she didn't want to break that strange spell.  
"Why are you being so nice to me?" There was no suspicion in her words, only amazement.  
"Because you are special, Kiddo."

Waverly immediately made herself useful. She paid much attention to the directions the man gave her. He explained to her how to organize the goods, where to collect specific plants and other chores she would do.  
Then came the best part.  
"So, Kiddo, the world out there can be very hostile, but you know that even better than I do. I've been observing you, and I can tell from your body and particularly from your hands that you've been very diligent, but you're still very immature, and in a direct confrontation you'd have very little chance of hurting or disarming your opponent."  
The girl knew the man was right, even if it did bother her a little.  
"What can you teach me?" Asked, intrigued.  
The man invited her to follow him.   
They reached the wall, and the man pushed slowly, revealing a hidden door opening onto a small courtyard, surrounded by large walls to the north and other buildings on the other sides.  
There were all sorts of weapons and different ampoules, like the ones inside, but with brighter and more menacing colors.   
The girl was astonished.  
"In love as in war, there are few rules, but there is a kind of etiquette based on respect, violence and blood. You must have respect both for the weapon they wield and the enemy to shoot down. Like a rival in love, it's a dance for two." He smiled.  
"I don't know if I understand." Said the girl, admiring the various components of the garden.  
"That doesn't matter now, it's an awareness that comes of itself, whether you wage war or feel love." The old man winked at her, and she turned red.

Waverly worked on the duties that were assigned to her until mid-afternoon; she liked the place and she didn't regret the work, it helped her not to think.  
The man came to call her, had some clothes in his hands, handed them to the girl.  
"I don't know if I can take it," she said.  
"You must, you can't let the customers see you looking like this, let alone fight." He handed her the clothes and a smile," when you're done, join me in the back, we' re starting. If that's what you want."  
"Yes, of course I do! "She took what the man handed her and smiled in turn, with much gratitude.

The clothes fit her like a glove. She wondered how he had been so precise...  
Now she wore a shirt of a durable white fabric, over which she put a sort of sleeveless shirt of flexible leather, the pants were of a soft opaque black fabric, at the feet a pair of brown boots. Finally she tied a black ribbon to her hips like a belt, and was ready to go out.  
The old man observed her with a clinical eye, "something is still missing," he said.  
The girl looked at him questioningly.  
"Your hair, it's really too long, it might get in your way, you have to decide whether to cut it off or tie it up, but even tying it up would be easy to grasp."  
The girl thought about it a little bit, her father liked her long hair, which went all the way down her back.  
"I'll tie it up, I'll make a bun so it's as if it's short." She said at last.  
The man smiled, "you women always know better than the devil, I wouldn't have thought of it in a hundred years," he laughed.  
After she'd tied her long brown hair tight, she was ready to start.

"Which shall we start with?" she asked, looking at the blades.  
"With you," he smiled, "first you must learn to use your body, to be aware of it, then the weapons can become a natural extension of it."  
The girl was a little puzzled, but she decided to trust him.  
"Try to hit me." He said.  
"I don't think I want to." She said, looking at the puny opponent in front of her...  
The old man didn't lose his smile, "remember, you have to have respect for your opponent."  
Waverly nodded not too convincingly, and started running towards him. Her right fist was a few inches from the man's face, "now I'm hurting him": she thought, disappointed, but the only thing she hit was the air. The man had moved away so quickly that she could barely sense his movement, then she felt his fist hit her shoulder, "taken". He said.  
She was stunned, but also excited by what she had just seen. While she was still cutting through the air, he had managed not only to dodge the blow, but also to bring himself behind her and hit her.  
"How did you do it?"  
"War and love are a dance, if you learn the steps, you rule an art."   
"How do I learn to dance?" She asked fascinated.  
"With time and constancy, Kiddo."  
Until sunset she tried to catch him, and every time she had the mathematical certainty of touching him, he vanished in some direction.  
"That's enough for today. You've done well." He smiled at her.  
"Not much, I didn't even touch you," she said, disappointed and panting.  
"I'm sure you'll succeed, treasure what you've seen, it's a dance in the end, and even though the steps are many, in the end they repeat. Now go and lie down, I've prepared a bed behind the counter, you can stay there if you have nowhere else, and you'll find something to eat too."  
She thanked him sincerely. The man was about to vanish into the shop when he stopped, "your compensation will be delivered to you at the end, until then you're my guest, if that's all right with you." He smiled at her, quietly.  
"Sure, you're too good to me, sir." She said, bowing her head.  
"My name is Nicolay, but you can call me Master, Kiddo."  
"Of course, Master, I am..." But he had already vanished.  
"You are Kiddo."A voice in the distance.

  
That night, lying on her bed, she thought long on the last days of her life.  
Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't really had time to metabolize, she curled up and started crying, then she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gera: Coin used in this world.


	3. Hard Training

**3**

The next day, Waverly woke up all sore. She thought she was past that stage... perhaps the training had been more intense than she had perceived.  
She tried to move normally so as not to show it, but it didn't do much sense... she was the only one in there.  
She went to work.  
Near some bags with the goods to be sorted, she found a bowl of milk and some white bread, she had never seen it of that color, putting it in her mouth she realized that she liked it.  
She worked all morning in solitude: nobody came in, as the day before, after all. She wondered if the man really had a profit and where he was.

In the afternoon the man returned, greeting her with his usual smile.   
She was quivering with curiosity, but she thought it more polite not to ask, if he wanted he would have told her where he had been.  
"I see you've done a very good job, more than was required, I might add."  
Only then did she realize the enormous act of trust the man had given her, leaving her alone in his workshop. She felt proud to have lived up to it.  
"So, Kiddo, are you ready for training?" he asked as he walked beside her. He smelled of damp undergrowth, and when the old man opened the door, she knew why: it was raining.  
She was surprised he wasn't wet, like the cloak he was wearing.  
She was so lost in those thoughts, she took too long to answer.  
"If you don't feel like it, let's start again tomorrow," he said, standing at the door.  
"Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. If you're willing, I'm happy to continue," she replied, following him under the drizzle.

"Like yesterday, Kiddo, try to hit me." He said, when they were in position.  
After several attempts and slips on wet ground, Waverly began to predict, or so it seemed to her, the opponent's moves, but he was still faster than her.  
"Yes, Kiddo, you're getting better, your movements are a little slow because your muscles are aching, but your eyes are moving in the right direction," he congratulated her, as if he could read her mind.  
Feeling gratified, she was better able to endure pain and fatigue.  
The sun would set shortly, so she decided she would experience something before the end. She got ready and started running at him with her right hand, when he moved to his left she raised her other arm and touched the neck of the old man, who jumped back with an incredible jump.  
She couldn't hold back a scream of joy.  
"Good, Kiddo, but you were lucky." He provoked her gently.  
"No, Master, it's true I counted on luck too, but even if you had dodged to the right I had my leg ready," she smiled, proud of herself.  
"So you're telling me you calculated three moves before, I didn't expect that," he smiled, "you should play chess."  
She had no idea what they were, but she was pleased with the result and the approval of the master, who had even underestimated her.  
They returned, and she noticed that the master was drying quickly, giving off steam from his clothes and white hair.  
Once again he seemed to read her mind, "I have a very high body temperature, didn't you notice by touching me?"  
No, she didn't notice. She bowed her head.  
"Don't be sorry, Kiddo, you'll gradually become fully conscious of your body, even during a speed action. Come, let's eat."

They had dinner together.   
The man had prepared some boiled eggs, cut bread and cheese, accompanying everything with good milk for her, and mint wine for him.

As soon as she went to bed she fell into a deep sleep: she was exhausted.   
That night she dreamed of a happy old herself.

There was never a lack of work in the shop, and Waverly was very happy, if she had something to do, she didn't have to be with her demons. Afternoons of hectic training left no room for any other thought. She couldn't imagine how she could ever reciprocate the goodness of the master.

During the fifth afternoon of training, almost all of Waverly's shots had some effect, managing to touch or grab the man before he got out of her reach.  
"I'm gonna have to start getting serious with you, Kiddo." He said to her, smiling.  
The girl looked at him in amazement, "until now... did you play?"  
"Get ready, now you too should dodge my attacks, don't be afraid, I won't hit hard." For the first time the smile disappeared from the man's face, and his eyes became as cold as the ice they seemed.  
Waverly was stunned by the change: he looked like a different person, an enemy. She had a tremor of fear.  
"I'm coming." The old man jumped forward, came a few inches away from her face and hit her with one finger between the eyes, but despite the use of only one finger, the power was so strong that it knocked her head back, causing acute pain.  
She hadn't seen him: one moment he was at the end of the yard and the next the blow had arrived, having just time to cross those cold eyes.  
"Don't give up, Kiddo."  
Never before had she taken so many blows as during that afternoon, in the end she began to tire of taking them, and began to try harder; her movements became uncoordinated, and even when he was waiting to be caught, she managed to miss him.  
"Don't lose focus, don't let anger guide you, concentrate, remember what you've learned, if you can hit me then you can avoid me."  
His words had logic, the problem was putting it into practice.  
She had to try.  
She started to calm herself down by regulating her breathing.   
When she felt ready, she told the master to attack.  
He arrived with his surprising speed, but Waverly was ready: she dodged the blow by emulating the master's moves, her fist, however, ended up cutting through the air.  
From that moment on, she managed to avoid almost all of the master's blows, and when, finally, her right fist impacted against the master's sternum, she could not hold back her joy. The distraction cost her another blow between her eyes.  
The master walked away from her, he had his reassuring smile again.  
"If you can do it again tomorrow, without distraction, we'll switch to arms."  
"Thank you, Master," she said, while massaging her sore forehead.

In her fist she was holding the hazel stick she had procured in the woods, its contact gave her a good feeling.  
The master showed her several moves to repeat until they came naturally, so she spent three hours in the exercise.  
"All right, now I'm going to hit your stick with this axe handle, it will help you get used to the blows, ready?" He asked her, lifting it up.  
"Ready, Master." She gripped her stick with both hands, and prepared herself.  
When the two woods met, Waverly felt the same electricity as when lightning strikes near, but amplified to a vibrant, sharp pain, she let go and the wood hit her thigh.  
The man bent down to pick up her weapon and said, "When you hold a sword the blow you will feel will be more delicate, that's why it's important that you get used to it, you may be facing a colossus or a thinner one, but if you don't know how to vibrate with your weapon, well, then you will be unarmed and you will die." Despite the seriousness of his words, his voice remained soft and encouraging.


	4. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final note contains a small spoiler about this chapter.

**4**

Day after day, Waverly was using her stick more and more confidently, engaging in more and more intense clashes with her master.

But she felt that something was still missing from her dance, as evidenced by the bruises on her arms and body.

They were dueling when, suddenly, the sky turned leaden and the first drops began to fall. Waverly liked the sound of rain, she found there was a melody in the disorder. At that point she had an illumination.

"Master!" She exclaimed blocking his blow, "I finally figured out what was missing." She smiled excitedly.

He leaned against his wood and looked at her encouragingly.

"You told me that fighting is a dance, I think I can follow the steps, but there was something missing: The music, if you hear the melody you can anticipate your opponent's steps and make him follow yours, all you have to do is listen to the breath, the boots against the ground and the rustling of the clothes." She said it all in one breath.

"It seems I really have nothing left to teach you, Kiddo." He smiled at her and put his hand on her shoulder, looking so proud of her, and the light in his eyes confirmed it.

"You're wrong, Master, you still have so much to teach me, I understand what I have to do, but I don't know how to apply it."

"I can't teach you to listen, just like I couldn't tell you about music, these are things that must come from you." He smiled.

"But Master..." She tried.

"Listen, Kiddo, I was afraid we wouldn't get there in time, the time we have left to spend together is almost over."

The girl couldn't understand the meaning of those words, but she felt they hurt her deeply.

"What? Master, what are you talking about?" She said, with great sadness.

"Come, let's go inside, I think it's right that you know something about me, only then will you understand."

They were sitting opposite each other at the table where they used to share meals.

The man put his hands on the table and without looking at her face, he began.

"My story begins during the War of Three Lords. These were hard times, and from a very young age they taught us the art of war; they were right when they said it would never end: it lasted eighty years, the sons took the place of the fathers, and the grandchildren of the grandparents; that's when the first Women Warriors were born, but I'll tell you about that later." He paused, but before he could go on, the girl stopped him, her eyes were out of her head.

"Master, that war ended over a hundred years ago...! How the hell is that possible? How old are you? What are you?"

"One thing at a time, Kiddo," he smiled at her, not at all irritated by the interruption. "When I was ten years old I was sent to the camp, they used children to set traps or deliver messages to the enemy, adults were too valuable to risk losing them like that," he smiled bitterly, "I grew up on the field of war, I became a strong man, a warrior who led others. Then the war ended as it had begun, still today nothing grows in those valleys, I speak of the Dead Land, on the border with the Vulcan Lands."

Waverly shivered to hear that place, was where her people's killers lived.

"Having no family and being of advanced age, I retired to study medicine, herbs became my specialty, and have been until now.At the age of seventy-five, I stopped aging. As the years went by, people began to look at me with distrust, so I wandered around without stopping in one place for more than a few years." He sighed, trying to put his thoughts in order.

The girl kept staring at him in awe, unable to believe what she heard.

"After years and years of searching, I finally discovered something. I was a 'touched' human, so they call people like us, so..."

"What do you mean, people like us?" She jumped up, unable to control herself.

"First let me explain to you who the Touched are: they are completely normal human beings, except for certain abilities that make them similar to the Gods. I, for example, can't age any older than that, I'm very strong... others govern natural elements like fire, others have impressive regenerative abilities." He stopped staring at her.

The girl was silent and unable to articulate her words.

"You're special too, Kiddo. I've never heard of anyone who survived the Vermilion Army, before you ask me: you talk in your sleep."

He continued: "By now people don't come to my shop anymore, I have to travel a lot to sell my goods, it's time for me to go. Sooner or later they'll come to get me and process me as a sorcerer, magic is not well seen in many places in this world."

"That explains why I didn't die while everything around me was burning and why the scar on my head is disappearing." She said, as she passed her hand on the back of her head.

Was she supposed to feel guilty about that? And why didn't anyone else in her family have this gift?

Waverly decided to put those thoughts aside, now it was too hard to face them.

"That's right, Kiddo, also, we have the ability to recognize our own fellows when we meet them."

"Is that why you decided to help me and be my Master?" She asked, trying to make sense of all that strange information.

"That too, but I'm of the opinion that if someone asks you for help it's the duty of every person to give it to them."

"But then we don't have to split up." She said looking at the man she now identified as a grandfather.

"Our paths are different, Kiddo, you want revenge, I want peace, and neither of us can escape our destiny, I'm not saying you have to take your revenge, you can also decide to live the rest of your life like a normal girl and have a husband, children..."

"No," she shouted, "I must avenge my people, I must make sure those demons no longer claim victims for pure pleasure, there's no point in living for anything else." She said, as a tear ran down her face.

The man smiled sadly consciously.

"You won't find many people willing to stand against the Vermilion, and you can't hope to destroy an army of thousands of legions. Strength alone will never be enough."

"Then I have failed at the start... but I will die taking many of those monsters with me."

"Listen, Kiddo, in some villages magic is still freely practiced, if you could find a way to use it against your enemy you would have a huge advantage, I don't know much about it, but in one of the villages where I stayed, I met a quite powerful wizard, he's in the Land of Breth."

"Do you really think magic can help me?" She asked thoughtfully, felt like a stupid, had imagined the army of those monsters consisting of a few hundred individuals, but it was something so immense that it could not even be imagined.

"They say the Vermilion Lord uses black magic, controls men's minds and bends them to fight for him, annulling their will."

"They do not fight for him, they kill for him," she said, unable to hold back tears.

The master waited patiently for the girl to calm down and recover, "if you find a way to get to him, you will only have to kill him to break the curse on those people's minds. But beware, some are loyal to him without hesitation or spell, you cannot know whether those before you are innocent subjugated or ruthless murderers."

"That's why I'd have to find a way around the army, I'd risk being a monster myself..." she said, wiping her cheeks dry.

"Now you'd better get some rest. Tomorrow we'll say goodbye and I'll explain the last things you need to know."

When she woke up, she was overwhelmed by the memory of what she had discovered the night before. It had happened too quickly and now she was beginning to metabolize. She felt overwhelmed by the weight of that new awareness, it was just too much. She burst into tears as her mind worked too fast and her ghosts cried out louder and louder.

The master's voice pulled her out of the abyss.

"Breakfast, Kiddo." She heard him calling from the other room.

She hurried to wash her face before she reached him.

He watched her go in, followed her with his eyes, felt her frailty, without a word approached her and embraced her.

"You'll be all right, Kiddo, you're strong."

She sank her face into the man's chest and that intense warmth reminded her of her mother's hug, mothers have that warmth that makes you feel protected.

They ate the meal in silence, enjoying each other's company, knowing that it might be the last time.

"Before we say goodbye, I have something to give you, and I assume you have some questions." He smiled at her as he took the bowls away.

There were too many of them and she didn't know how to clean up the confusion in her mind, so she thought it over and finally said, "If magic is freely practiced in the Land of Breth, why don't you come with me, no one there would make war on you." She said, hoping to avoid separation.

The master sat down in front of her again.

"There is a difference between the use of magic and sorcery, unfortunately, those like us, the touched, are not looked upon well, they are considered sorcerers, moreover, Kiddo, there is someone I must find," he said, looking into her eyes.

Despite her sorrow, she felt she understood it, and thought about what else she could use to know.

"How will I recognize this magician? O sorcerer, how will I get him to help me?"

"He's a good person, I'm sure he'll never deny you his help, just to make sure you give him my name, and you'll find him for sure, whoever in that land addresses him. And don't call him a sorcerer, they'll hunt you, ask for the wizard."

"How do I get to the Land of Breth? I've never been far from my village."

"Among the things I have to give you, I've even prepared a map. Just follow the sun and the stars, can you do that?"

"Yes." she smiled, thinking back to when with her big brother they looked at the stars, he told her that if she ever got lost, she could just follow the bluest star in the firmament and know where home was.

"I probably have a thousand more questions to ask you, but I can't concentrate."

"Don't worry, Kiddo, every question will find its answer sooner or later, at first you'll feel like a bird that has to leave the nest, you'll be afraid of heights, but then you'll get up in the air and love to look at the world from up there."

She smiled at him, thankful he always had a few good words in store for her.

"It's time, Kiddo," he stood up and took something from a ravine in the wall, "these things will help you on your journey, there's your fee too." He handed her a travel bag that wasn't too bulky.

"Thank you, Master." she whispered.

"And this," he pulled down something long from a high shelf wrapped in soft green fabric, "this belonged to my grandmother, she was one of the first Women Warriors," he said, as he revealed a sword.

It was a beautiful object, the double-edged blade had indigo veins and shades of equal tone, the hilt was shaped and covered with black leather, the knob depicted the head of the sacred animal par excellence, the owl.

"It's yours now," he said, holding it in both hands, "its liner has unfortunately worn out over the years, you'll have to get one if you find it more comfortable. It won't spoil, the thread of the blades was last sharpened when my ava had it made! It's one of the strongest materials in this world, nothing has been able to scratch it in almost two centuries."

Waverly looked at him with her mouth open.

When she was able to articulate again, she said, "Master, I'm really grateful, but I really can't accept such an heirloom from your family."

"I haven't used it for years, it would be left to gather dust or I'd risk losing it in one of the many travels, besides I wish you had it, it was meant for my children, but they never arrived. You who are the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had, are the rightful heir."

She hesitated for a long time, looking into the Master's eyes, and found difficult to hold back her tears.

When she finally took it, it seemed infinitely heavy, but soon afterwards it became light.

"You see, only the touched can wield it, it's really destined for you."

She saw her face reflected on the blade and had the impression of seeing two women's eyes, two turquoise ones like the Master's, the image faded away immediately and only her sad look came back.

"I really don't know how to thank you, you've done so much for me, I don't know how to repay you," she said hugging him.

"Live and free us all from this burden, you are brave, Kiddo. I've crossed the battlefield hundreds of times, but never could I face a challenge like yours. I would never have enough strength."

"Don't breathe a word of your gift to anyone, and don't approach any red hair; there are at least three descendants of the family, two men and a woman, they roam the world at the head of the largest legions, they have no mercy on anyone, they are like their father, perhaps worse."

They were both in front of the shop, each with their own baggage ready to leave.

"Master, will I see you again one day?"

"Of course, Kiddo, we'll see each other again. We'll meet again, I'm sure." He smiled and turned, "Go west, girl." He began to walk away from her.

"Goodbye, Master..."

He raised his arm, "Goodbye, Kiddo."

Before leaving the citadel she returned to the armorer who had treated her a few weeks earlier with arrogance, but now she could pay.

"I need a dagger," she said. What the woman had given her -Tay- was in a very bad condition, she had kept it, something could always be useful, but in case of too close a conflict she needed a short and sharp blade.

She chose one that was thin and easy to hold. When she pulled out the gera, she realized that the money was much more substantial than agreed, once again the man had been very generous with her, she thanked him mentally.

At her side hung the master's sword and the new dagger, and in her right boot she carried the old knife. She was ready to leave, the journey would be long and insidious. Looking for calm and leaving the sun behind her, she disappeared in the thick of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have thought that the Master's intentions were not good, but a few years ago I was even more naive than now. I thought some people might just be good and kind. I was hurt by that belief, but it's also true that people like that really do exist. Of course, in the text I had already written, he doesn't appear again, so things might change with what I decide to write, I have no idea.


	5. Enemy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted rape here, nothing too heavy, but I'd rather give a warning.

**5**

Waverly had been walking for hours, and when the sun was high in the sky, she stopped.  
The master had prepared her some dried meat, some cheese and that delicious white bread, and she ate what she knew would be the first to suffer the effects of time.   
While she was eating the meal, she realized that she was walking backwards along the road to Mrs. Tay's family. In fact, not far away she saw the cave where she had taken refuge after leaving them.  
She decided that she would spend the night there, even though she still had many hours of daylight left, she wanted to take it easy, she needed to think, "the dead have no rush", but many lives are dying out, it made her waver. In the end she decided that she would stop, and the next day she would walk longer and faster, finally in peace with her choices she was able to relax.  
It took her one day less to reach Tay's house. As she got closer, however, an all-too-familiar smell invaded her nostrils, causing her panic: there was a burning stench.  
She was appalled when she saw what was left of the little house, it was a scene she never wanted to see again.  
The fire had devoured everything and although a long time had evidently passed, the smell remained, as if it were a trapped ghost.  
She forced herself to come closer, praying not to see what she feared.  
Under a large charred beam, three bodies lay close together, their jaws wide open in a silent scream. They hadn't made it in time.  
She felt an immense anger rise to her head, how could they? they were helpless.  
When she was able to move again, she looked around for stones and beams, tried to give them at least a semblance of burial. At last she picked up a bunch of flowers and laid them on the grave.  
She was about to leave, but after taking her first steps she stopped: she heard a rustling sound, there was someone around her and looked at her.  
She stood still looking around, she couldn't see anyone, but she was sure she wasn't alone.  
"Show yourself!" She yelled at the trees.  
Nothing, absolute silence, not even the birds were chirping anymore.  
Waiting, nothing.  
In the end she ran as fast as she could, she wanted to avoid the possibility of a fight.  
She ran and ran until she came across another devastated village, but it still gave off heat and smoke, she was sick of it.  
Whoever did this couldn't have been far away. She was in danger of falling into the arms of the enemy.  
She stopped running and kept a fast pace, paying attention to her surroundings.

The night had fallen, she had to find a place to wait for dawn, and she was exhausted and her legs were aching.  
She had to walk a long way before she found a hare-wolf hole, before entering it she made sure it was empty: they were not aggressive animals, but if frightened, beings of that size, they could tear you apart with their huge claws.   
She fell almost immediately into oblivion.  
But she didn't sleep long, she was awakened by the sounds of footsteps and voices. She tried to press herself against the bottom of the den, but it wouldn't do much good: the moon lit her up.  
She had to decide, if they'd passed by, they'd surely have seen her.   
It took too long to get up and run, they'd heard her.  
Her heart was beating wildly, while behind her the sound of their armor was getting closer and closer.  
She looked over her shoulder to calculate the distance between the two followers, so she didn't see the mulberry root sticking out of the ground and fell badly.  
"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?"  
They towered over her, they were very high, and in their flaming armors, they looked even bigger.  
She rolled to the side, moving far enough away to stand up and unsheathe her sword, and prepared herself for the fight.  
"Hey, looks like somebody wants to play," said the same soldier, the other one just stared at her, wielding his axe.  
She sprang forward and aimed at the one who was teasing her, the giant was not expecting such an attack and the blade penetrated a hole in the armor and confiscated his shoulder.  
The other remained impassive and motionless.  
"You bitch!" the wounded man's eyes were flaming with anger, he attacked her, but his attacks were slow and predictable, she had no difficulty in dodging them, she managed to make a cut on his leg, the blood began to spurt and his attacks became weaker and more and more irregular.  
She couldn't believe it, she was winning! Although the smell of blood made her nauseous, she felt powerful.  
"What are you waiting for?" The man retreated behind his partner, unable to continue, had made the mistake of underestimating his opponent.  
The man with the expressionless face stepped forward, and without too much ceremony began to attack with violent precision.  
He was a very different opponent, she could barely block his blows, he was aiming for vital points.  
She managed to prevent him from piercing her heart for a few inches, but a deep scarlet cut was drawn on her left arm.  
The pain clouded her vision, she was moving backwards, giving the opponent an advantage.  
She had to think and concentrate, something that wasn't easy.  
She listened, but it was a dance she did not understand. So she turned to cunning, using her tiny body she was able to pass between his legs, hitting him in the back. He didn't even moan, and when he turned his face, no pain, no emotion, was visible.  
The man unloads the weight of the axe on the ground, missing her head by a few millimetres. His neck was exposed it could hit, Waverly thought.  
The purple blade stopped a few inches from Adam's apple. The thought of what was in front of her blocked her, making her unable to hit: he was a subjugated, that's why he seemed to be in trance.  
The other man took advantage of the moment and hit her on the head with the hilt.  
"Stop, we can play with her for a while."   
The succubus stopped the axe in midair, obedient.  
The blow she received was very violent, she could barely stay conscious.  
"It's over," she thought, as the wounded man lowered himself down on her, breathing in her face.  
The man began to remove his armor, while his eyes flashed with animal lust.  
Suddenly, a black spot entered her field of vision, throwing the man who did not get up to the ground. This time the succubus did not wait for orders and hurled himself against the hooded figure that had just appeared.  
Waverly tried to recover and managed to follow the brief battle, now the succubus was also lying on the ground, dead.   
The figure stood out in all its height in front of the moon, against the light and with the hood on its face it was impossible to distinguish its features. It approached her with its sword strewn with blood, raised its hands so as to reassure her.  
She fell unconscious.

She regained consciousness, realizing she was swinging, someone was holding her.  
She opened her eyes and saw the moon, trees and finally a hooded head.  
"Who are you?" she babbled, trying to control the pain in her head.  
No answer, the figure kept walking looking straight ahead.  
It must have been the man who saved her, but why, and who was he?  
If he wasn't so tall, she might have thought he was the Master.  
There was the sound of a broken branch and the figure turned its head, letting a lock of red hair slip out of the hood.  
Waverly reacted instinctively, she managed to grab the old dagger from her boot, and without hesitation, stuck it into the enemy's shoulder.  
She didn't expect a woman's scream, which left her so astonished that she couldn't move. Despite the wound, the figure did not let go of her grip, laying her gently on the ground.  
Waverly jumped up and unsheathed her sword, her head was dizzy, but fear and adrenaline kept her on her feet.  
The figure stood in front of her, her hand covering the wound from which a very dark, almost black, blood streamed out.  
"I don't want to hurt you," she said as she approached her.  
It was really a woman.  
The girl backed away and continued to threaten the enemy with her sword.  
There was another broken branch, Waverly turned to check it out, and when she turned again, the figure had vanished, the only clue to her passing was the bloody dagger left in the shallow grass.  
She looked around, but there was no sign of the woman. She bent down to pick up the weapon and saw how dark and dense that blood actually was.

  
She had run for an endless time, hoping to get as far away as possible from that red-haired demon.   
Completely exhausted, she stopped, and could hardly climb a tree.   
Thinking of that incredible meeting, she fell asleep.


	6. Nicole - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter I wrote, I was convinced it was 9, but I was wrong. The first part of this chapter I had already written a few years ago, the second part I will write in a while. The last chapter written, instead, starts again with Waverly, but it is an incomplete chapter, so at some point, as in the second part of this chapter on Nicole, you will certainly notice a change of style.  
> Thank you for your attention.
> 
> I almost forgot, the name Nicole, Nicola, etc. really means "he who fights and wins for his people."

**6**

When she came into the world, her destiny was already written, she would have glory and power, she was destined for greatness.  
When she reached the age of five, she received her name: Nicole, a variation of the name Nicola which means: "The one who fights and wins for his people."  
She was proud of the name she had, grateful for the greatness of her family, the brave and righteous father.

At the age of fifteen she went into battle wearing her red armor, and under her helmet, she allowed her hair to be recognized as a Vermilion.  
The art of the sword seemed to have been born for her: she was not afraid of rivals. Despite her height her balance remained excellent, she seemed to dance while one after the other men fell under her hits.  
Life was perfect and idyllic.   
But her certainties began to waver on her fifteenth birthday...  
She was joined by her older brother, the middle brother, who captained the army, on a journey to punish those who threatened her father's throne: selfish and miserable rabble.  
During the night she was celebrated and they drank a lot of wine, in euphoria they decided to anticipate the attack destined to dawn.  
They marched swiftly towards the goal, and under the last veils of the night, a village was seen. She did not understand, where was the enemy army? Could that be the place of battle?  
Then there was delirium, the voice of her brother was joined by many others and the race began.  
The inhabitants, awakened by the roar, came out of their homes and then escape or come back screaming in terror.  
In the confusion of the moment, Nicole followed the horde.  
Without any difficulty, she shot down men armed with simple tools.  
She was waiting for the enemy, but wherever she looked, all she saw were farmers brandishing forks or billhooks.  
She went in search of her brother Jan. She wanted to understand what was happening. That's when she saw one of her men stab a young boy shielding himself with a rake. Nicole lost control of herself, jumped on the soldier and severed his head from his neck. She was nauseous, all around her the locals were dropping like flies under the blades of her army.  
"Stop! The enemy is not here, what are you doing?!" She shouted.  
She ran through the torn bodies trying to make herself heard, but no one was watching her or, at most, she received questioning and perplexed looks that soon afterwards came back to their victims.  
When Jan reached her, she was overlapping between a soldier and a young woman, her brother grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall of one of the few houses that remained intact.  
"What the hell are you doing? Too much liquor, sis?" He giggled as he took off his helmet to revive his short scarlet hair.  
"What the hell am I doing? There's only civilians here, it's a massacre!" She yelled at him, pushing him away.  
The young man didn't lose his smile, "oh come on, they're just poor people who think they're better than us, they don't pay taxes, they don't obey their Lord, they don't even deserve to breathe our air."  
Nicole looked at him with her eyes out of her head. "When our father hears about this, he'll have you executed." Nicole said in anger.  
Jan laughed like it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "Who do you think ordered all this? Are you sure we're brother and sister?"  
"No! Our father would never allow such injustice. He's a fair and loyal man."  
"This is war, sis, a king must know how to make good decisions for his people, he must lead and protect them, stop living in fairy tales, you don't conquer the world with words." He said seriously and composed, but without losing his sneer.  
"He would never do such a thing..." the sense of nausea increased second by second, "this is not what they taught us."  
"Perhaps not to you, sis, but this is what needs to be done, and frankly, I find it extremely satisfying."  
He turned his back to her and shouted, "Set fire to everything, we're leaving."  
Nicole felt she couldn't move, her head was spinning, her world was falling apart, she needed to talk to her father, he would certainly reassure her by revealing a passage in the hidden plot that would explain everything.


	7. Nicole - Part 2

**7**

Nicole followed the army a few feet away. She was in no mood to talk to anyone.  
Some soldier had slowed down or stopped to waiting for her, it was strange for them that one of the commanders was at the back. But Nicole had sent them all away.  
The Vulcan Lands had that name for a good reason: they were full of active volcanoes and it was very, very hot. Although she was born in those lands, more than once she was tempted to take off her armor, but perhaps the discomfort she felt this time was not because of the heat of the ambient, but because of what was in her heart: anger.  
Part of Nicole knew that her father would give her an explanation for that massacre of farmers, even though she continued to feel angry and uncomfortable.  
She already heard the voice of Alexander, the oldest of the three of them, making fun of her, calling her weak.  
Nicole was not weak! But she knew the difference between right and wrong. And that massacre was wrong for her.  
"What's the matter, sis? Was the battle too intense for you?"   
Nicole gasped, she was so immersed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that Jan had joined her in the army tail.  
"What battle, Jan?" She said, in an icy tone, something so in contrast to the sultry environment that it seemed strange to her, "it wasn't a battle, they were armed with rakes! There were women and children completely unable to defend themselves! Damn it, Jan!"  
"Orders are orders, Nic." He smiled, "I might start to think you're questioning our father's judgment." The smile had disappeared from the young man's face.  
"No, I..."   
But Jan wouldn't let Nicole finish her sentence.  
"Our father is a great king, perhaps the greatest ever!" He almost yelled. "Last night I was understanding, it was your first fight, but now you have to stop."  
"Why didn't you tell me what we were going to do?" Nicole asked.  
"I told you we would fight the enemy, and we did, Nicole." He said, as the smile returned to his skinny, angular face.  
"What danger did those people represent?" Nicole shook her head, "we were three hundred... how many of them? Thirty?"  
"You know," Jan said, "our father wanted to leave you in full command of this expedition, but Alexander objected, he said you weren't ready. He was right."   
Nicole was hurt by those words.  
"I won't tell our father what you did, don't worry... I'm not Alex." Jan said, looking at the soldiers' backs, "but you'll never have to act like a child again. Alexander is about to face the challenge of the twelve warriors, he is now in his twenty-fifth year, he could die, we know it. And in three years, it will be my turn. If the two of us should die, tell me, who will carry on the immense legacy our father will leave when he dies? We cannot allow all this greatness to be lost. You understand that, don't you? You must be strong, you must deserve the name you bear."  
Nicole remained silent for a few seconds, listening to the strange noise that hundreds of steps made on the sandy ground.  
"I don't want to be a delusion." She said.  
"Then don't be, sis. When was the last time our father failed us?" He asked.  
She remained silent.  
"That's right: never." Jan shook his head, "our father knows what he's doing, and maybe you're too young to understand it, but one day you will."  
"Do you think Alexander will die tomorrow?" Nicole asked, after a few minutes of silence.  
Jan shook his head, "I don't know. He is the strongest warrior I have ever known, but the twelve warriors are... almost gods..."  
"Our father told me that I'll probably have to face that challenge too." Nicole said, in a shaking voice.  
"A woman?" Jan stopped, "no woman has faced that ordeal for at least a century."  
Nicole also stopped, "he told me that if I want to be respected I have to deserve it. He defeated them using only one arm... but how can he compare us? He's so strong and muscular and..."  
"And he's a man." Jan nodded, but stood still.  
"I don't think women are inferior to men, but they're two different things, you know? It's like magic that makes you physically stronger."  
"The palace healer calls this thing testosterone." Jan said, "he says it's alchemy."  
"Chemistry," Nicole corrected him, "alchemy is something else."  
"It doesn't matter." He started walking again. "I hope I'm alive, I really want to see you against the twelve."  
"You mean you want to witness my death..." Nicole said.  
Jan stopped again, and grabbed Nicole's arm, "listen, if you tell anyone I said that, I'll kill you."He looked her in the eye for a few seconds, "you're better with the sword than I am, if I'm in your battle with the twelve warriors, it means I've won, so you'll make it too."  
"Jan..." Nicole felt the tears burning in her eyes.  
"Now don't start crying! Be a woman, be a adult woman, be a warrior." He left her arm and ran for the army head.  
"I'm an adult, I'm a warrior..." Nicole nodded. She didn't need to dry her tears: the dry wind had already done everything.

The Vulcan Palace was still three miles away, but the building was so massive and red that it was visible from far away.  
Nicole kept her gaze fixed on the palace, trying to imagine how she would deal with her father. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her father, Menezio*, had always frightened her, even though he had never really hurt her.  
When the distance between her and the Palace of Vulcan was almost bridged, Nicole took off her armor.

The palace had been adorned with ribbons, flowers and fabrics of fine quality. In front of each column, window and door, there was the coat of arms of the Vermiglio family: a red three-headed dragon with a claymore** in its right paw. All those preparations were for Alexander, who was about to face the challenge of the twelve warriors.  
Nicole headed straight for the throne room, without even removing the dust from her hair or skin, without even taking a sip of water, she wanted to talk to her father as soon as possible.  
Nicole walked past some slaves and servants who bowed as she passed, but a few feet from the large door of the throne room, Nicole's march was stopped by a tall and imposing figure.  
"I thought I would see you return to your shield." Alexander gave Nicole a sour smile.  
"I must speak to the king." Nicole said, trying to keep going, but he was blocking her way.  
"The king is busy. What is that thing on your face? Fear?" He sneered horribly.  
"Please, not now." Nicole sought out her older brother's eyes.  
"How pathetic you are, Nicole. You're still a little girl terrified of her father. When are you gonna grow up?"   
Nicole turned her back on him, realizing that she'd have to postpone the talk with her father, and that Alex would torment her until she cried again... Nicole didn't want to cry in front of him.  
"From tomorrow you'll see the Vermilion tattoo on my chest, will you come hold my hand?" He laughed, "oh, right, my name's not Nicole!"  
She started running to her rooms.

\---

Nicole stopped remembering and went looking for something to disinfect the wound the girl had inflicted to her.   
She smiled at the memory of the young woman, she did not expect an attack from her.  
But Nicole also wondered why this woman, hidden in the trees, was following the girl. And above all, why had she not helped the young woman?  
It was probably none of her business.  
Maybe she shouldn't have helped the girl. It was a waste of time and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Menezio: Titan of violent anger, of sudden action and human mortality. (I decided to keep the Italian pronunciation because I didn't understand how to translate it.)  
> **Claymore: two-handed sword (If you haven't seen the anime, I recommend it!)
> 
> Ps. I just found out that testosterone is written the same in English and Italian, and it means the same thing, cool!  
> Also saliva, same thing.But in Italian, saliva, can also be used to say climb, for example He/she climbed the stairs. (Lui/lei saliva le scale) :)


End file.
